


Straight Flush

by kettlepillow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Mob, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Mob Boss Petyr, Petyr Knows How to Talk Dirty, Sansa is Not Naive, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-07 00:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11047107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettlepillow/pseuds/kettlepillow
Summary: When gangsters play poker, some lose their money.Some lose their life.Petyr Bealish wins a daughter ... and sweet temptation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~ For Vale ~

They heard him before they saw him.

His spurs gave him away. He wore them to torture his enemies with the mere image of the small cogs at the end cutting their flesh like butter. It was so much more effective than carrying a knife at all times. Which he did. But no one saw. The stories, true or not, did all the work.  
The small group of men around the poker table looked up from their pints. The dimly lit room smelled of beer and regret. But the addition to their gathering brought in the smell of death.

Littlefinger they called him.  
He walked through the room with a confidence that only a man used to winning would have.  
Dark hair, dark clothes, dark blue eyes. To his right walked a rather large black dog that slumped next to the chair he sat down on gingerly.

‘Gentlemen.’ Littlefinger nodded at each man and snipped his fingers.  
A waiter appeared from the shadows like he had waited only for the signal to hurry over.  
He carried a Bloody Mary in one hand and a briefcase in the other.  
While the croupier dealt the cards, stacks of chips from the case and drink where placed in front of Littlefinger.

‘We decided to wait for you.’ Said one of the men.  
‘I expected nothing less of you, Tywin.’

They were all there. All the big names of the land’s underworld. This was it. Their game for the throne. Whoever won this poker game would win a considerable amount of what the gangs of Westeros had accommodated over the past year. Which was a lot. But most importantly – power.  
One of the men sat with his eyes cast down and an expression close to crying. He wore a rather heavy pelt for the pressing heat of a packed pub.

‘Ned!’ Greeted Littlefinger too loudly. ‘The King of the North.’ Sarcasm. ‘I did not expect you here.’  
‘Tywin offered me a chance to redeem myself instead of killing me like my wife and brother-in-law.’ His voice rumbled deep in his chest as if he hadn’t spoken in a while.  
‘Tywin, I will never forgive you her death.’ Littlefinger sounded more serious.

‘You don’t pay- I will make you pay.’ Said Tywin and shrugged. ‘A Lannister always pays his debt and if a Stark doesn’t, I will have to take care of that.’  
One man grunted.

Tywin Lannister was older than all of them but just as brutal and thirsty for influence. They all respected him. Equal respect to a certain extend was what had kept Littlefinger alive and part of the game.  
They started to play and each man won and lost for a few rounds.

But eventually the luck was more on his side and Littlefinger, almost literally, stripped Ned Stark down to his underwear.  
Several rings, the pelt and his chips landed on his opponent’s side of the table.  
‘Oh Ned.’ Lulled Littlefinger. ‘What was supposed to be redemption has become quite the whipping, hasn’t it?’ His spurs jingled.  
‘One last round, Gentlemen.’ Announced the croupier.  
And with a straight flush, Littlefinger won and looked at Stark with a sly smile.  
‘My little birds told me…’ whispered he ‘That you brought something in case all other stakes are lost… In case you have to go all in and know your life is forfeited.’

Ned got up wordlessly and left.  
The grin on his opponent’s face seemed to irritate even Tywin who ordered another drink and gave him a long look.

When Ned returned, he had a girl with him.  
Red, long hair, fair skin and the eyes of her mother.  
Her expression was unreadable. She stood unshaken and looked like the Princess of the North she was. Or could’ve been if her father had a better hand at the game.  
Littlefinger rose and slipped between her and Ned.

‘Good evening.’ He bowed and kissed her hand. Lingering a bit longer than what would’ve been appropriate, he smelled soap and vanilla. The beast in him growled at the prospect of such purity in his life. ‘My name is Petyr Baelish.’  
She tried a stiff curtsy. 

‘This is my daughter Sansa.’ Ned’s voice sounded firm. But underneath, he was a broken man. ‘Take her as your ward and prize.’  
‘That is too kind of you.’ Baelish smiled broadly and turned to Sansa again. 

‘I will take you as my pupil and ward. I will love you like my own daughter.’ Ned tensed audibly behind him. ‘What do you say?’  
Sansa’s lips twitched before she remembered her line.  
‘I will gladly pay my father’s depth.’ She stopped and looked into the night blue eyes directly.  
‘Father.’

Ned’s fist landed in Baelish’s neck. He stumbled forward and was pushed to the floor by Sansa. Behind Ned, Tywin Lannister rose and pulled out a Magnum in a smooth motion. The other gang leaders rose as well and before the spur on Littlefinger’s right boot could cut Sansa’s heels for good, Ned was at gunpoint with his hands above his head.  
The bullet that hit Ned Stark between the eyes came from the shadows.  
One trusty waiter had done his job and taken his chance.

The people in the pub knew better than to run in panic and tell the story. They ordered another pint and watched from the corner of their greedy eyes how Littlefinger’s goons carried Ned’s corpse out of the back door.  
Sansa sat still on the floor and watched as well.

‘Daughter?’  
A hand was extended to help her up.  
She took it, no indication of feelings on her face. The tears seemed drawn on and cold.  
‘Father.’


	2. Chapter 2

For a moment Sansa contemplated running as fast as her legs would allow.  
They stepped outside, Baelish's goons and her father nowhere to be seen.  
She wondered briefly if she’d be casually walking the streets with a mob boss, like prey dragged along by the huntsman.  
Her questions were answered by the deep blue sports car that waited around the corner. 

There was no doubt left in her head that Littlefinger liked to be seen and show off his questionable fortune. He was untouchable. Like the Mockingbird. Which was his ‘community's‘ symbol. How fitting. He stood above society's conventions and rules. He was the law. A goal her father would no longer chase…  
Sansa was so busy thinking about the car she sat down in and the man next to her that the shock, grief and anger was numbed. Reduced to white noise in the back of her head. Being brought up in an environment like her family's lead to a certain pain tolerance. Even at age 19. She knew the business better than Littlefinger could even begin to suspect.  
The engine roared and they shot out of the parking area into traffic. Sansa sat next to the murderer of her father and fought the urge to punch his lights out with her elbow that was so close to his…  
But something told her that she wouldn’t be his next victim. If only the way he gazed at her right now. So she had to embrace the new path she was lead on and try to survive.

‘My Lady, I apologize for the waiter’s quick reflexes. Had he struggled only a heartbeat I would’ve intervened.’  
‘I don’t believe a word.’  
‘I never wanted your father’s death.’  
‘What do you want then?’  
His arm nudged hers as he shifted up a gear.  
‘Everything.’

For the first time Sansa looked at him and saw sincerity.   
‘I loved your mother. If Westeros were still a kingdom and we were still Lords and Ladies, I would’ve asked for her hand in marriage. But she loved your father and marriage for the sole reason of love is no longer frowned upon.’  
‘Thank the Gods.’ Murmured Sansa. She had heard many stories about Littlefinger. This was one of them.  
‘Many call me Lord Baelish even though the last real Lord of house Baelish died long ago.’  
There it was again, the need to show off.  
‘My father knew his time was up. He explained to me what he had planned. And why, for whatever ancient belief in loyalty, you would take me as your ward and reprieve me.’  
‘Ned and I were both part of the cruel shadow business. I was loyal to Cat and loved her.’ He let the engine roar as if to underline the statement. ‘And I will love you.’  
Sansa shuddered.

 

°°°  
They arrived shortly after leaving the city, when Littlefinger left the street and drove into the forest.  
Baelish Mansion, Palazzo of the Mockingbird was a huge building huddled in the middle of two massive boulders. They looked like sleeping giants with a house for a child wedged between them.  
He parked the car in front of the entrance’s stairs and held the door for Sansa who stepped inside hesitantly.  
The entrance hall had a check pattern floor and the ceiling was at least six meters above her.  
‘Welcome to my humble home.’  
Humble.  
‘It is very impressive.’ Replied Sansa eyeing the men walking towards them from the hallway.  
‘Ah! These are some of my birds.’ He gestured as they stopped in a half circle. ‘Birds, this is Lady Sansa… Stone. She is now part of our little family.’  
Sansa wondered why Baelish hesitated to take her first name after taking her father.

One of the birds stepped forward and bowed politely before speaking with a deep voice.  
‘My Lady, I must ask you to undress.’

Sansa paled and stared at Petyr who smiled benevolently.   
‘It is simply for safety reasons. Before stepping further into our home we must ensure that guests don’t carry daggers under their robes. It’s a standard procedure and nothing against you personally.’  
Her clothes were something he’d take gladly then?  
She didn’t move a muscle.

Baelish sighted heavily.  
‘Give the girl a hand.’  
Deepvoice grabbed Sansa.  
‘NO!’ Came her high pitched shriek as she struggled.  
‘Leave her.’ Came the tired command.   
Deepvoice let go.

‘Is THAT how you will treat me?’  
‘If I did not have such a weakness for young Ladies I would find myself forced to.’  
‘That’s rich coming from a man living with a bunch of other men.’

He slapped her across the face  
His voice was a low hiss by her ear.  
‘I promised to protect you but I cannot save you from your own stupid words!’  
She stilled and cast her gaze down.

‘Look.’ He took a breath. ‘I don’t think you plan on killing us all but I have no doubts you might want to harm yourself in order to start drama or leave this place for good. And I will not have that. So to make it easier for you to follow the rules and to entertain my birds.’ He undid one cufflink. ‘For every inch you reveal I will do so, too.’

Sansa’s reaction could only be described with mortification.  
‘No please, I – ‘ She took off one shoe in a swift motion and gave it to Deepvoice.

‘I am quite hurt that that’s your reaction to the prospect of seeing me in less than a winter coat.’  
She already started unbuttoning her jacket.  
‘Lord Baelish, Sir.’ Sansa rambled. ‘I wouldn’t want you to be overexposed in front of your men.’

One of the birds stifled a chuckle.  
‘He can confirm that it’s an experience.’ Said Baelish eagerly and pointed at said man with a grin.  
Her jacket, shirt and skirt landed in the arms of Deepvoice and Sansa stood shivering on the check pattern in only her underwear and stockings.  
Baelish’s gaze burned on her skin.  
‘I will help you with that corset.’ Said he casually and his fingers undid the satin bands as if they did little else. ‘A corset is perfect to hide small bore and army knives.’  
The corset was handed over as well and the gangster nodded not without drawing a mental map of her curves.

‘Bring the dressing gown and show Lady Stone her chambers.’   
One bird hurried to cover Sansa up and lead her away, with an almost shy expression.

The moment both were out of sight, Petyr took the corset and pressed his nose into the silky lace to inhale her essence.


	3. Chapter 3

The breakfast next morning at Baelish Mansion was simple but delicious.  
Sansa had been asked to eat with Petyr in the salon, and it was only then when she realized how hungry she was.  
Next to her sat a woman with bronzed skin and only a silky sheet for clothes.

‘This is Shae.’ Said Baelish. ‘She will attend to your needs, she’s-‘  
Petyr and Shae exchanged a look.  
‘Your girlfriend.’ Tried Sansa helpful.  
Shae laughed out loud.  
Petyr failed to supress his smile.  
‘I worked for Lord Baelish in his establishment. Before he decided to keep me for himself. But now I’m more his housekeeper. Such a shame!’  
So Sansa’s father hadn’t been just mocking when calling Littlefinger a pimp…

‘How come a rich, successful mob leader like you is single?’ Asked Sansa through a mouthful of toast.  
Petyr gestured.  
‘I told you, I only loved one woman in my life who did not return my feelings. I tried some, but they were all so clingy and utterly boring.’  
‘So you killed them?’

Shae nudged her. ‘What about you then?’ She asked a bit too cheerful. ‘No man looking for you right now? No crushes and lovers?’  
‘Oh no, no, no. My father would’ve killed me. Some random man taking his princess and shagging her in a dark alley.’ Sansa giggled. ‘We had some banter regarding what the King of the North would do to such a disgusting criminal. And I didn’t feel like marrying anyone so far, really.’  
Petyr’s thoughts had stopped at taking Sansa against the brick wall of some alley. Her pleas filling the night. Being the first to touch Ned’s only real fortune. He swallowed his tea like alcohol.

‘Besides.’ Sansa was still laughing while trying to peel an egg. ‘It would’ve been so awkward to bring home a partner only for my father to discover that I like ‘em older.’ 

Petyr inhaled his drink and started coughing violently.  
Both women cackled like drunk hookers.  
‘You’d be well advised to not share these things when Lord Baelish is in the room. His mind always goes straight to the gutter.’ Shae wiped her eyes, struggling to regain composure.  
Sansa looked at the coughing Petyr with curiosity and surprise.  
‘I see.’

°°°  
‘Wake up!’ A voice by her ear. Loud and clear.  
Sansa jerked awake from slumber.  
She had laid down after lunch.  
It was Petyr’s face above hers with a serious expression. Next to him stood Shae with worryingly deep lines on her forehead.  
She sat upright and allowed Petyr to sit on the bed’s edge.

‘Your father’s disappearance is being investigated. Of course.’ Littlefinger’s fingers were fidgeting in his lap. ‘Someone from the pub told the police that I took you with me and now they’re, according to one of my little birds, sending a social worker to figure out what led to this outcome.’  
Sansa’s heart stopped.  
‘What are we supposed to tell them? That my father had no backbone and gambled with his virgin daughter?’ She almost yelled.  
Shea stepped forward.  
‘It was Lord Baelish’s stag night and the ‘trade’ a funny way to give the groom his bride-to-be.’

Sansa’s mouth opened. Petyr gave her a not so confident half smile.  
‘Are you crazy?’  
‘A bit.’ He admitted dead serious. ‘One has to be in my business.’ He smoothed over the fabric of his gown. ‘The social worker will come to visit this evening. It is of utmost importance that we work on our story. I am aware that you don’t want to be here and hate me for what I am. But believe me, the police doesn’t show mercy to daughters of gang leaders. They will use you to make an example. They will interrogate you and ask about Ned Stark’s darkest secrets.’ It was necessary to frighten her. Just a little, thought Petyr.

‘I don’t hate you.’ Said Sansa. ‘But I am terrified.’

They sat down in Baelish’s study and made a list of things they had to know for the visit.   
Favourite meal. Last vacation. Reason for the marriage. Reason for Ned’s disappearance after the stag night.  
Lemon cake. Dorne. Love through long conversations at Winterfell. Too much alcohol, probably? It had all been a bit of a blur.

‘There is one more thing.’ Petyr hesitated. ‘They will ask us separately to make sure we tell the same stories. To prevent exactly what we are doing right now. Planning an elaborate lie.’ Sansa nodded. Petyr inhaled. ‘They will ask you about the wedding in particular. Especially because of our age difference and who I am…’  
‘I understand.’  
‘Do you?’  
‘Which flowers? Was he gentle? Blah blah blah.’  
‘Yeah, about that… Should they ask about the wedding night-‘

‘Ohhh.’  
‘Yes.’  
‘What would you like me to tell them?’  
Petyr fiddled with his ring and searched for words.

‘You see, given who I am known to be… it would be highly unlikely for you to still be a virgin.’  
‘Right.’ Sansa agreed amused.  
‘Just… just don’t get me hanged for telling them I raped you or beat you or pissed on you.’ He cringed. ‘I wouldn’t be able to protect either of us.’  
Sansa grabbed his fist firmly. To see the gangster so genuinely distressed because of his own horrible reputation made Sansa’s heart ache in compassion she never would’ve thought to be possible.  
‘We’re both fucked if I do. I’m not that stupid!’

‘Good.’  
°°°

‘So Sansa, tell me. Did you regret your decision of tying the knot with Petyr so far?’  
The old lady in one arm chair of their salon leaned forward and winked. She wore a perfectly tailored suit and her hair was brushed back and held by a golden brooch. She had arrived almost two hours ago.  
Sansa and Lord Baelish sat next to each other. Together. In the same room. Sansa’s pulse hammered under her skin.   
‘How could I?’ Sansa answered sweetly while holding his hand. ‘We’ve overcome all of society’s obstacles for this moment.’

‘So it is what you wanted and you are content away from home?’  
‘I am more than satisfied, Madam.’ She gave *her husband* a cheeky look.   
‘Despite me being the younger one Petyr is insatiable and by my side at all times. He’s so attentive to my needs and apologizes so gentlemanly.’ Sansa lowered her voice. ‘Even in bed, you see. He tells me how sorry he is for waking me six times a night just to give me yet another love bite and have me overflow with his seed, like he wants to deflower me over and over again. And for already thinking about our heirs and-‘ She stopped herself.  
Silence.

‘Thank you Sansa. I believe you are truly happy. Thank you both. The investigation will be focused on other aspects of Ned Stark’s life in hope of answers.’  
The lady stood a bit stiff and gave Littlefinger a puzzled look before seeing herself out.

Sansa downed her drink and giggled into her cup.  
‘That was actually quite a lot of fun.’

Petyr’s open mouthed stare and his raging erection remained unnoticed.


	4. Chapter 4

As they sat in silence the salon door flew open and one of Petyr’s birds hurried inside.

‘Sir, we found the guy from the pub who sang for the police… about you and Lady Stone.’ He was breathing heavy and soaked to the bone as if they had hunted their victim down through half of Westeros.  
Littlefinger cleared his throat and his smug expression was back on his face.  
‘Bring him in.’ He turned to Sansa.  
‘You’d be better off leaving for now, sweetling.’ Without warning he took her hand and kissed it feather light.  
Sansa looked at him without moving before she slowly nodded.  
She knew the things that happened to traitors. To good citizens. She had no doubt Baelish would give this man a very special treatment.

The girl rose and passed a struggling lump of a man in the grip of two birds as she entered the hallway.

When the door shut behind them, Sansa pressed her frame to the dark wooden door and tried to calm her heartbeat enough to hear Petyr’s words.

‘Put him in that chair.’ Commanded he.  
Some time passed before he spoke again.  
They probably tied him to it.  
‘Now, you are the little rat running to defend law and order.’ His voice was a lull.  
‘You see, what you did was very stupid indeed. You are not only losing your life for it, you also almost managed to rob me of my beautiful lady.’  
The man screamed into his gag.

Sansa, for some masochistic reason, cracked the door open enough to see how Petyr lowered himself into the traitor’s lap. The man's hands were tied behind his back, he could only stare wide eyed as Baelish sank down gracefully like a woman accepting a dick.  
Sitting there, his face was inches away from the man’s.  
‘Oh no, no.’ He tutted. ‘Don’t look at me so frightened. It is entirely your fault.’ 

Petyr pressed his lips to the other man’s.  
Sansa gasped. Something inside her jolted in surprise and anticipation.  
‘Kiss of death.’ The voice was a mere whisper. ‘And still you responded to it almost eagerly.’

The man cried. But his face was flushed like it would be after a passionate kiss.  
‘Interesting.’ Remarked Petyr grinding in the man’s lap like a common whore.  
Fully dressed he pressed himself into the wet crotch of a complete stranger, just to see him crumble.  
‘So frightened and yet so’ He kissed him again. ’So turned on.’

Sansa started sweating and felt the slick in her panties as she watched how Petyr dominated the traitor with such tender gestures of affection.  
‘You know.’ Continued the gangster. ‘My lady and I have not yet warmed enough to each other to be so intimate. But you are.’ He hissed. ‘Almost as satisfying.’

A strangled sound escaped Sansa. She bit her lip so hard that blood filled her mouth instantly.  
Just when Petyr pulled out a long butterfly knife from under his robes, Sansa bolted for the stairs.

With the taste of copper still on her tongue she lay on her bed in sweet agony. The blood rushing downward merciless where her body begged for satisfaction.  
Petyr wanted her!  
She slid easily into her cunt, her walls grasping hungrily for what wasn’t quite as good as a thick cock, she supposed.

Behind closed lids, she saw the gangster boss grinding her wanton body while holding a knife to her throat. Fully clothed giving her pleasure by simply being close enough to exchange the heat radiating from every pore.  
Sansa's breasts would rub against the dark silk of his shirt. Just enough friktion for the nipples to harden.  
Her folds smearing sweet honey over his crotch. And as the stain grows, so would his lust and his cock trapped by the fabric of those tight pants. He could fuck her just with his bulge and it would be enough because the bite of the blade… The blade would be demanding from her to come. The closer they’d get, the harder the bite of the blade and Petyr’s teeth on her throat.  
This is what he wanted all along. He’d be just as lost and needy as Sansa.

‘Sweetling? Your father will come so, ah! So fucking hard in his pants...’  
‘I can feel your fucker twitching already, daddy.’  
Sansa trembled violently under her own touch and wound her head for the groan to be muffled by the pillow beneath her.  
Panting hard with red locks in her face she stared at the ceiling.  
Never before had she come so hard, so fast.  
She tasted her own essence wishing it were Petyr's lips suckling on her fingers. Almost like a forbidden lolipop only a man with lose morals could try.  
Her body was aching for the touch of a very dangerous man twice her age.

Sansa was determined to scratch that itch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes less is more. So this one is short but intense ;)  
> And we've only just begun


	5. Chapter 5

Later that evening Sansa decided to explore the garden she had seen through her window. Sleep was impossible for now.  
Wrapped tightly in a pelt she sneaked outside, hoping that none of Baelish’s birds would follow her.

The terrace was large and seemed to be carved from marble. Stairs lead down into a garden area full of roses, ivy and tall trees. It looked like the garden itself was much older than the house. Sansa noticed the rich colours of the roses, even in this cold weather.  
Walking further and further away from the house she suddenly came to a halt when facing a heart tree.  
Beneath it sat a person in dark clothes.

‘Lord Baelish!’ She exclaimed.  
The man faced her without surprise.  
‘Forgive me if you’re at prayer.’ Sansa hesitated to come closer, until Baelish extended his arm in her direction.  
‘Petyr.’ He corrected. ‘And the old Gods have long forgotten my name. I don’t pray, but sit here in silence.’  
Sansa shuffled forward awkwardly.

When she stood right before the gangster her heart stopped.  
His face was bloody, tears mixed with grime as well. Without thinking, like a reflex, she touched his cheek. Completely in shock.  
Involuntarily, Baelish leaned into her touch, exhaling softly.

‘What happened?’ Came her low whisper.  
‘Your touch is the only balm that I need.’  
She retreated her palm immediately.  
‘It is something I longed for forever.’ He stared into the distance. ‘The tender touch that a whore will never grant you with. A touch born out of concern and true feelings. I’ve been starving without noticing it, until you entered my life.’ He pulled her down next to him. ‘Shae left. She beat me, spat on me. I let it all happen. She was so jealous and then she left.’  
‘Of me?’ Sansa couldn’t fathom his words.  
He looked at her with his sad eyes, crusted blood on his features.  
‘I told her how I feel and that I would no longer share my bed with her. Never again.’  
‘But…. but why so suddenly?’ Sansa could barely focus on her own thoughts. ‘You’ve known me for two days.’  
‘The plan to make you mine stands longer than you can know. Your father and I formed an alliance that was entirely my plan. I longed to…’ He trailed off. ‘I knew I needed a part of Cat Tully in my life. And I needed Ned Stark’s trust to get what I wanted.’  
Sansa shot up and stared at Baelish in disgust.

‘YOU KILLED HIM TO GET ME!’  
Baelish lifted both hands like in surrender. His spurs jingled.  
‘I buried him with all honours right here under the heart tree, but it was never my intention to see him killed.’

Sansa gaped and bowed her head slowly until she looked at the earth under her feet. She flinched like standing on lava and bolted. Finally she ran as fast as her legs allowed. If only to escape her father’s grave.  
Baelish yelled something but she ran only faster. 

Out of the garden, around the mansion, past the blue sports car, out of the gate.  
Ten meters and Sansa reached the forest they had come through. Tears stung in her eyes, blurring the path that wasn’t there. She felt so stupid. But she’d rather die than look at her father’s grave for the rest of her life, knowing that it was her host who couldn’t even admit having wanted it. A man she had wanted.  
The pelt became too heavy so she shed it. She slowed slightly but only enough to orientate herself. Sansa found a slim aisle that huntsmen had cut to be able to follow wild boars. It allowed her to make more meters at a slower pace. Killed by a boar, she thought. Just like old King Robert.  
Just when her heart threatened to burst out of her chest she saw a small hut, hidden between old pines.  
It was probably for the hunters to warm up in, or woodworkers, she guessed.

Even the faintest star light was blocked by the trees and the night was completely dark by now, Sansa had no idea how far she had come, but she prayed that the door would be open and whoever might be inside wouldn’t kill her.

The door swung open and gave way for the view at an empty room. A light switch next to the entrance lit a small light bulb as Sansa pressed it.  
She shuddered.  
A narrow plank bed, mouldy blankets, a table, two chairs. But it was still more comforting than to share the house with Baelish, thought Sansa.  
Someone had forgotten a card game and two overripe apples on the table. Sansa ate hungrily and licked the juice off her fingers against the thirst.  
She had nothing with her, no phone, not even a watch. But time does not matter when no one misses you, she supposed.  
Except… except for Petyr, who had risked far too much to let her slip through the cracks.

Sansa lay down gingerly on the plank bed and considered her limited options.  
She could call the police when back in town, explaining everything and get Baelish locked up. But she knew too much to be called innocent. She had seen more in her father’s business than some gangsters in their life time. She had helped her father count money washed in his casinos. She was no longer a child who couldn’t be blamed for fooling the social worker, either.  
There was only one logical conclusion and she hated it with all her heart. Sansa had to play her hand and continue to cooperate with her father’s killer.  
Tomorrow. She told herself. When my anger is hopefully no longer eating me, making me act like a little bitch.

°°°  
It was barely before sunrise when Sansa jerked awake from a dream.  
She shuddered, remembering last night’s events.  
Her clothes smelled wet and mouldy like the hut. Sansa felt hungover while being completely sober.

Not looking behind, she shut the door and stumbled back in her own footprints. Soft snowflakes danced around her.  
Winter was coming.  
She missed her pelt.  
It was easy to find the path she had taken. Where she had run through the undergrowth, bushes and sticks were cracked and bent. It just felt so much longer a way, now that she walked slowly.  
Eventually, Sansa spotted her fur, covered in a thin layer of white.  
A bit later, she had reached Baelish Mansion’s doorstep.

Sansa took a deep breath. Everything depended upon this.  
After ringing the bell she sunk down, leaning against the doorframe, sniffling and holding her pelt tight. She truly felt miserable and could already feel a cold coming.

The large door opened. Sansa didn’t look up from her coat and closed her eyes. Prepared for whatever reaction.  
Fabric moved above the girl and someone picked her up wordlessly, like she and the wolf fur weighted nothing.

The scent of tobacco and expensive perfume gave him away.  
She rested her head against his shoulder as Petyr carried her upstairs. Sansa could feel his heartbeat. She had no interest in fighting anymore and watched his chest rise and fall instead.

When he sat her down in the largest of the bathrooms, their eyes met for the first time.  
Sansa’s fists clenched on their own accord when she scanned his features. Pale, with dark circles under both wide eyes, messy hair and the same clothes as the night before…  
Petyr said nothing. Simply crouched down to take off her coat and scarf.  
He hesitated at her jacket’s buttons, but there was no way Sansa would find the strength within herself to undress without help. So he proceeded by getting rid of the rest of her clothes.  
To Sansa’s surprise Baelish didn’t comment on her body, not even give it a hungry look. But then it wasn’t like he had never seen a naked woman before.  
He simply turned around and ran her a bath with herbs against the cold she was expecting.  
Then he picked Sansa up again and very slowly lowered her into the water. Before leaving the room to let the girl soak in, the gangster turned towards her and just regarded the picture. Completely silent.

Sansa was too sore and exhausted to give it much thought. Simply relieved, she appreciated the lack of much words and tried not to fall asleep.  
After some time, the door opened slowly and Petyr was back. He held a bowl in both hands and closed the door with one foot.  
For the first time he looked content when he sat down next to the tub to feed Sansa some soup. Spoon by spoon.  
Her throat burned from the hot liquid but she ate much too hungrily, to complain about being spoon-fed.

When Petyr stood again and reached for a fluffy towel, she couldn’t help but give him a shy smile.  
He returned it and that felt even better than hot soup, she had to admit.

Dressed in a night gown, Petyr lay Sansa into her bed.  
It felt strange.  
That wasn’t how Sansa had imagined to be *bedded* by a man. She felt vulnerable and deeply sorry for apparently hurting Baelish with her actions to a point where he seemed so utterly broken.  
Her host was about to leave when she held onto his arm.

‘Would you stay for a bit?’ Her voice sounded hoarse from the long silence.  
He regarded her with sad eyes that spoke volumes.  
‘I’m sorry… Petyr.’

Wordlessly he took off shoes and frock before laying down by her side. His lips were pressed together and he kept some distance.  
Sansa turned to face him.  
Very carefully she inched forward until their lips met.  
It wasn’t more than a touch of skin to skin. No passionate kiss, short and simple. But Petyr’s features relaxed slightly and his mouth was no longer a harsh line when they parted.  
Sansa drifted off to sleep with dark blue eyes on her.  
‘Good night, sweetling.’


	6. Chapter 6

A noise by his ear woke Petyr.  
‘Father.’ It was a whisper.  
He opened his eyes while feeling the tingle of breath on his pulse.  
Sansa.

Fully awake he became painfully aware of two things: His erection. Sansa lifting the cover to get the full view of his tented trousers.  
Petyr groaned while wiping both palms over his face.  
‘Good morning. I apologize for this.’

‘Oh, so we are talking.’ Her voice was still low. Maybe it was a cold.  
‘I tend to talk to people who look at my boner.’ He turned to face her just to see teeth flashing as she laughed. ‘Such a shame that of all women it’s my adoptive daughter and fake wife.’ He shifted awkwardly, when suddenly a delicate hand grabbed his bulge. He hissed in surprise as the inevitable spike of arousal shot through him.  
‘Whatever you’re planning.’ He managed to press out. ‘I assure you it’s a taboo and highly risky.’

‘I would like to apologize for yesterday. And thank my daddy for accepting me back.’  
All the blood in Petyr’s body began to boil instantly. Eyes turning dark and fuelled by the grip on his crotch he grabbed Sansa by the jaw. 

‘Say that. Again.’  
‘Thank you, daddy for accepting me back.’ She huffed. Her wide eyes transfixed on his, her implication didn’t sound as cheeky as intended. Instead, honestly grateful and full of anticipation.

His face stayed serious. Baelish was born for this role. He nodded while scanning her lewd body under the thin night gown.  
‘Is that what I am now?’ His lips parted and he waited with slightly raised brows and chin for the girl to answer.  
Sansa nodded as fast as his grip allowed.  
‘I need someone to take care of me, yes?’ She breathed. ‘I have no one left and you fed me and took care of my pain.’ Petyr released her. Sansa looked at her kneading hands in her lap. ‘In fact, I have an ouchie right now, still.’  
‘And what’s that?’ Asked Petyr with genuine interest.

She flushed heavily.  
‘I woke to see your arousal and… was getting affected. My cunny started aching, Sir. It has before, actually. When I thought of how big a daddy might get.’  
She was shut up by fingers stroking her jaw, so she opened up for Petyr’s tongue, while his other hand shoved up the thin gown. Finding her wet and desperate he growled with an edge of surprise. His flies were open already.  
‘You know.’ He gasped against her cheek with a grin. ‘Daddies get bigger when little cunnies like yours have an ouchie. Because that’s what daddy’s peepees are made for. To make it go away.

‘Please.’ She was gulping air with her eyes shut tight. Only when she cracked them open again a fraction, her features lit, seeing Petyr press her thighs apart, crawling forward to have his rock hard cock disappear under the shoved up white fabric.  
‘Do you want daddy’s peepee inside you, sweetling? Because daddy sure will feel an ouchie too, if not.’ He smirked inches away from her face as she nodded.  
‘Yes. It’s your job, daddy.’  
The head of his cock was engulfed easily by Sansa’s leaking pussy. Her whine was followed by a shudder that caused her inner walls to flutter and positively suck him in further.  
The lack of resistance fed Petyr’s arousal.

‘Oh god, sweetheart. Is it even possible to be THAT eager and ready?’ He spoke against her collarbone while steadily building a rhythm.  
‘M sorry, Sir.’  
‘Oh, don’t be.’ He chuckled. Sweat smeared over their skin matching the messy fluids between Sansa’s shaking legs.  
Every push forced a hiccup-like inhale from her lungs.

‘Is that.’ She lost track. ‘What daddies do, too? Push and push and-‘  
‘Every proper man will make you bounce properly.’ He punctuated it with a thrust that shut Sansa up for good.  
All that was head, was the sound of needy, wet sex.  
Until Sansa’s noises changed into something like an oversensitive, high pitched mewl.  
‘I’m … that feels really good. I think I’m going to-‘  
‘Your cunny will clench around daddy’s fucker and milk him real good.’ He kissed her hard and buried himself balls deep, just in time for Sansa to shake violently, gripping onto him while her head rolled on the pillow, mouth and eyes gaping in a silent scream.  
Petyr looked upon utter ecstasy with satisfaction, knowing that his cock had caused it.  
They both sank wordlessly into the pillows and a little eternity passed in perfect bliss behind closed lids.

 

The mockingbird and the wolf later embraced like fire and ice. Opposites bound by fate.  
And the kiss they shared was one of passion, joy and tender love. Meant to grow and blossom.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr :)
> 
> theanisplanet.tumblr.com
> 
> This is my first fic for the fandom and pairing.  
> Let me know what you think!


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